


a three man job

by starstrung



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: During Canon, F/M, M/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-05 00:11:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16356902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstrung/pseuds/starstrung
Summary: “Sorry we took your bed,” Chloe says from the kitchen, sounding like she’s not sorry at all. Nate knows from prior experience that Chloe is shamelessly unrepentant in all things. It’s a good trait in a thief. Less so in a roommate.





	a three man job

There’s about fifteen minutes left on his shift and Nate’s doing his best to stay upright. There’d been a loud group of tourists in, and they’d all bought him a couple drinks. He usually doesn’t let himself drink too much on the job but they’d been pretty insistent. So he’s a bit more drunk than he should be, at work.

It’s not too bad. A beautiful woman came in about ten minutes ago. She’s a bit older, but she’s been tipping really well, looking at him from the corners of her eyes sometimes, like she’s interested. She’s there alone, dressed up for a night out and looking misplaced in this hole-in-the-wall bar. Nate wonders if she’s been stood up.

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asks her. He has to lean forward over the bar to be heard, and she leans forward to listen. He breathes in her perfume.

“I was,” she says, toying with her drink. Her English is a little accented, but everyone’s English here is a mix of one thing or another. “He said he had to take care of something but that was two hours ago.”

She smiles a little ruefully, and Nate’s entire heart goes out to her. “Guess I’m not going dancing tonight after all,” she says.

He throws down his dishcloth decisively. “Well, screw him. I’ll take you dancing.”

A part of him is worried that she’ll laugh at him, but instead her entire face lights up. “You got some cash on you, baby? Only I was counting on my date to get me in and I heard this place is pretty pricey.”

Nate, still a little fuzzy from the alcohol and her perfume, grins at her. “Yeah, I just got paid.”

  
  
 

He should probably have expected the knife she points at his back as soon as she’s led him into a dark alley. It still stings though.

“Oh, come on,” he says. “There were fifty drunk tourists in there and you decide to rob the guy making your drinks?”

He feels her shrug because the motion presses the knife uncomfortably into his spine. “You were the one who took the bait. Wallet out, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, making like he’s reaching down to his pocket. Before she can react, he’s twisted around, and knocked the knife out of her hands. It scatters across the dirty floor and into the shadows. He grins victoriously, only to realize that they’re not alone in the alley anymore. And he’s big.

“Uh, looks like your, uh, date showed up after all,” Nate says, stepping further back into the alley. The woman smirks at him, and the (massive, massive) guy behind her advances menacingly.

Nate manages to get out of there eventually, but not before the guy gets a few good punches in. It’s not the first time he’s been pounded into a wall by a guy who’s got a hundred pounds on him, and it probably won’t be the last.

Nate wishes he could have stuck around to see the looks on their faces when he leaps off the guy’s shoulders and climbs out of the alley, but by that point one eye is swollen almost shut and he can’t really see shit.

At least he still has his wallet. And both of theirs too.

  


He’s not sure whether he’s being followed.

All he wants to do is collapse in his bed and sleep for a week, but Sully taught him better than to lead your tail straight to the place you’re sleeping at. Nothing is more unprofessional in the business than waking up to a loaded gun, according to Sully. Nate had given him a hard time for being paranoid, but he still takes the long way home.

By the time he makes it back to his apartment, the sun is fully up. He opens the door and freezes instinctively, hearing muted voices coming from his room. But after some tense listening, he recognizes one of them as Chloe’s, and lets himself relax. Her and Flynn must be in. He grabs a bag of peas from the freezer and goes to the bedroom, only to drop the bag on his foot.

The first thing he sees are the angry red scratch marks down Flynn’s back. Chloe has her bare leg hitched up over Flynn’s hips, and he’s got her pressed into the mattress. Nate’s mattress. In Nate’s bed. They are naked and fucking in _his_ bed.

Nate yelps, snatches the peas off the ground, and backs out of the room. Right before the door slams shut he sees Chloe lift her head off the pillow (his pillow!) and grin, face flushed, at him.

Nate lies down on the couch and puts the bag of peas on his face. He can’t unsee that. And apparently his dick can’t unsee that either. He’s uncomfortably hard at the idea of them together, right now, in his bed.

Nate does find that he works best with people he’s slept with. He and Chloe got pretty close working a job smuggling artifacts out of Borneo, back when Nate still took those kinds of jobs. Not that Flynn knows any of that, of course. And come to think of it, he and Flynn may have traded handjobs once or twice coming off the high of a heist well done. Nate tries to remember. There may have been a third time.

It’s not like Nate didn’t already know Chloe and Flynn were together. They’ve been staying at his place for a week now, gathering contacts for the job stealing Marco Polo’s lamp. But usually Chloe and Flynn are gone all day, and Nate’s job means he’s out all night.

If they’re ever in the apartment at the same time it’s usually for just a few minutes. They’ll move in and out of each other’s space getting coffee in the tiny kitchenette, or discussing plans over blueprints pinned up on the wall. Nate is used to having to share his space so it doesn’t bother him.

Now that he thinks about it — and for some reason his brain won’t _stop_ thinking about it no matter how hard he tries — they’ve probably been fucking in his apartment this entire time. There was that time he came back early from work and found Flynn with his face red, Chloe grinning like the cat that just got the expensive cultural artifact. He’d been dead tired from work and hadn’t really paid much attention to it.

Only later he’d found Chloe’s bra stuffed into the cushions of the couch.

Fuck, he can still _hear_ them. Chloe’s occasional pleased gasp. Flynn is quiet for a long time but then Nate can hear him too, long groans that _have_ to be him messing with Nate.

“Yeah, right there,” he hears Chloe say, that deep gravelly voice of hers, “Good, good boy.” Nate shivers at that. He hears Flynn give a low desperate whine.

He considers walking out of the apartment right now, maybe finding that nice lady with the knife and asking her to stab him out of his misery. But already, being horizontal is having its effect. He doesn’t think he can get up even if he tried, and right now, exhaustion is winning against indignation and… being the most turned on that Nate has been in a while.

Resigned to his fate, he curls up sideways on the couch, stuffs his face into frozen peas, and tries to tune it out.

He must succeed because the next thing he knows, someone is peeling a soggy bag of thawed peas from his face.

“You look bloody awful, Drake, what happened to your face?” Flynn says down at him. He’s smirking a little, like he’s making fun of him. Or like he just got laid in Nate’s bed. Nate glares up at him.

“Got mugged,” Nate says. He sits up, rubbing at his face. At least the swelling around his eye has gone down.

“Someone got the jump on you, eh? Well, it happens to the best of us, I suppose,” Flynn says, with more than a little condescension. Nate really does like Flynn a lot but he forgot how often he makes Nate feel like strangling him.

Not that they didn’t try that once, if Nate recalls correctly. Flynn hadn’t seemed to mind it much at the time. Nate decided it wasn’t really for him.

Nate pulls out the two stolen wallets and shows him. That shuts Flynn up.

“Sorry we took your bed,” Chloe says from the kitchen, sounding like she’s not sorry at all. Nate knows from prior experience that Chloe is shamelessly unrepentant in all things. It’s a good trait in a thief. Less so in a roommate.

Nate cranes his neck to glare at her. She’s drinking orange juice out of a carton. She’s wearing _his shirt_.

Whatever angry retort Nate was going to say dies in his throat. It’s one of his henleys, the sleeves of it rolled up to her elbows. The neck is dipping down enough that he can see some bruises low on her collarbone, right above the swell of a breast. She’s not wearing any pants.

Chloe takes a gulp of orange juice and leers at him.

Nate looks away, looks at Flynn instead, but that is a mistake too. Flynn is looking at Chloe like he’s dazed, hungry. Chloe makes a sort of tilting motion with her head, and then Flynn turns that look on _him_. Nate goes hot all over.

“Well, go on then,” Chloe tells Flynn, and this time there isn’t a door between them, so Nate can hear the dissonant strum to her voice when it gets that low, that coaxing.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re too greedy for your own good, Frazer?” Flynn says, and there’s enough warmth in it for Nate to think that they’ve forgotten he’s still in the room — only they’re both _looking right at him_.

Flynn sits next to Nate on the couch and begins to kiss him.

Just like that. He doesn’t wait for Nate to pull back, to try to defuse the situation. Flynn’s good like that — good at pushing things along when Nate wants to linger in his own head, counting treasure ship landing sites until he’s caught in a mental loop of it. Flynn is good at following through on dares — but only if someone dares him first.

It’s probably going to get them all killed one day, but Nate’s used to finding things like that hot.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nate sees Chloe lean back against the kitchen counter with the carton of orange juice to watch. They must have spoken about this, Nate realizes belatedly. Flynn must have told Chloe that he and Nate used to fuck. Was it while they were in Nate’s bed? While Chloe rooted through his clothes? Did Chloe dare Flynn to take Nate to bed with them?

The thought makes him desperate — Nate gasps into Flynn’s mouth, pulling at the fabric of the shirt he’s wearing. The deeper the kiss gets, the more it pulls at the bruises on his face, the more Nate goes warm all over with how badly he needs this. It’s like the dial in his head that’s either pointing to fight or fuck is stuck somewhere in between.

From past experience, Nate knows that Flynn is stubborn in bed, too unwilling to give up the upper hand even if he wants to. So it takes some wrestling and strategic biting on Nate’s part before Flynn goes pliant, and Nate settles over him on the couch, rutting his hips against Flynn’s thigh.

“Alright, boys,” Chloe says, finishing up her orange juice. “Let’s move this to the bed, shall we?”

  
  
 

Chloe reaches behind the gun holster that Nate has hung up in his closet, and pulls out a similar looking harness — except it’s not for carrying guns.

Nate’s jaw drops open. “You’ve been keeping that in there this whole time? That’s where I put my guns!”

Chloe smirks.

“Oh, you are in for a treat, my friend,” Flynn says, excitedly, but Nate catches what might be a flash of jealousy.

Nate stops himself from telling Flynn that he already _knows_ — he has plenty of fond memories of Chloe fucking him. Unseen by Flynn, Chloe gives him a sharp grin, mostly teeth, and Nate counts all the many different ways that he is in over his head.

The thing with Chloe is that she’s so good at her job that you’d have to be a complete idiot not to have her on your team. Unfortunately, Nate suspects that Chloe is always running at least three different jobs at any given time, and they all have a way of running into each other and blowing things up, sometimes with actual grenade launchers involved.

He should have gotten up and turned around as soon as he saw Chloe walk up beside Flynn, a lie given as easily as a handshake. If Sully had been with him, Nate knows he’d have looked him in the eye, said “that’s trouble, kid, and you know it”, and that would’ve been that. Probably.

Nate didn’t do any of that, of course. He takes off his clothes, lies down on the bed, and Chloe hands Flynn the bottle of lube.

“Harry can handle that,” Chloe says. “You and I need to get acquainted.” She bends down to kiss him. The neck of his henley falls away from her chest so he gets a good view of her — everything, wow. Nate’s brain shorts out a little on the cognitive function, which is good timing because then there’s nothing to distract him from Chloe kissing him.

God, he missed this. He missed her. This was a great idea. Her teeth run along the inside of his lip and his back arches up from the mattress, which is exactly when Flynn starts to stretch him open with slick fingers.

Nate isn’t even trying to be quiet at this point. The walls in this apartment are thin — there’s no way that their neighbors can’t hear the way he’s already whining with how close he is. Flynn isn’t being gentle or slow at all, and it hits just that side of too much, until Nate has to break off from kissing Chloe to grit his teeth and exhale sharply. It’s been a while since he’s done this.

“You good?” Chloe says, with surprising gentleness. There are tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, Nate realizes. He nods.

Chloe snorts, like she doesn’t quite believe him. She turns back to Flynn and says, “Don’t break him quite so soon, yeah?”, which is _so_ unfair.

“Yes ma’am,” Flynn says, and instead of continuing to stretch him open, presses _deep_ , until Nate lets out a cry, until he must go out of his head for a half second. He doesn’t immediately realize that he’s begging for Chloe to fuck him already.

“Oh my god, now. Right now, right now,” Nate is saying incoherently, hands twisting into the sheets. Flynn is still _doing_ that. Nate tries to get himself together so he doesn’t embarrass himself, but all he can do is take several choking gasps, wipe quickly at his wet eyes so that Flynn doesn’t see it. No one’s even touched his dick yet.

He catches sight of Flynn’s smile — pleased with himself and a little mean about it — he’s doing this on purpose. He’s bringing Nate to the edge like this on purpose, seeing what he’ll take, what he can get away with.

“Just give me a moment, love,” Chloe says, giving Nate a quick kiss. She gets off the bed for a moment to wear the strap-on. She’s still wearing Nate’s shirt. He’s never going to get _that_ image out of his head.

They rearrange so that Flynn is sitting up against the headboard and Nate is on his belly between them. He can’t stop staring at the thickening bulge in Flynn’s pants.

“Look at him, he wants this so badly,” Chloe says, and they both look back at her, unsure of who she means. Chloe throws her head back, her loose hair falling dark across her shoulders, and laughs.

“Can I?” Nate asks, his hands going to Flynn’s belt, but Flynn hesitates.

“Oh, Christ, yes, get on with it,” Chloe says impatiently, which is really all the encouragement Nate needs to undo Flynn’s belt and get his dick in his mouth. Flynn doesn’t hesitate to get his hand in Nate’s hair and start pulling, and really Nate’s too far gone at this point to be indignant about that.

Chloe settles a hand on his back and starts to push in. She’s much more careful pushing in then Flynn was, but Nate still pushes back, trying to work it in deeper, while still trying to fit his mouth over as much of Flynn’s dick as he can. Flynn doesn’t make it easy for him either, holding Nate by the hair so that he has to strain against it just to take his dick deeper into his throat.

It’s just as he remembered. Chloe steadily working up a rhythm that hits exactly the spot that would make Nate scream again, except for how Flynn is fucking his mouth. Nate makes very careful note about how sleeping with people separately is way less complicated, and way less gratifying than just sleeping with them both at the same time.

It’s about the last coherent thought he has. Chloe finally, finally gets a hand around his dick as she fucks him, and then Nate is letting out a choked sob and coming on the sheets.

Things go filmy and soft after that, and Nate has a minute, or ten minutes, where he’s lost to the world. He finds himself propped up on the pillows, opening his eyes to find Chloe sitting in Flynn’s lap, riding him. God, it’s a sight.

He’s decided that the henley just belongs to Chloe now. He’s never going to be able to wear it anymore without thinking about Flynn fisting his hand into the back of it, snapping his hips up, the way the hem of it just covers up where they are joined.

Afterwards, they all three lie side by side on the bed, the smell of what they have done mixing with the smell of the cigarette Flynn lights, passes between them.

“What are you going to do with your share?” Nate asks, sleep catching up with him. Working nights and then fucking his roommates all morning is going to be a heavy drain on his stamina. Worth it.

“Buy a bigger bed?” Flynn suggests, grinning crooked. He’s letting Nate use his arm as a pillow, but it’s only a matter of time before he pushes him away. Nate takes advantage of it while he can.

Nate snorts. “What about you, Chloe?”

Chloe lets out an exhale, looking like she’s considering it. Nate is waiting for her to lie, like always. He’s never known Chloe to be sincere, except when it counts. When the ground is giving way, when all her untruths have been cast out, and there’s nothing left to do but jump.

But instead, Chloe takes a drag of the cigarette and looks solemn. “Send some back to my mum, I suppose. Would be nice to break even for a change.”

Flynn and Nate are both silent for a moment, taking that in.

“Cheers to that,” Flynn says, voice soft. He leans over to kiss Chloe’s shoulder. Nate’s heart twists. Flynn really is in love with her, he realizes. He meets Chloe’s eyes over Flynn’s head, and the lie between them seems to grow in magnitude.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/star_strung).


End file.
